


A Legend Examined

by CaesiumDressing



Series: Huxloween 2017: Huxloween Rides Again [20]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Huxloween, M/M, Sci-Fi Horror - Freeform, local legend, myths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaesiumDressing/pseuds/CaesiumDressing
Summary: Two girls go to explore a house that, according to locals, was the last known location of the Galaxy's two most wanted war criminals.





	A Legend Examined

“So you’re telling me,” the blonde girl began as she slipped through the rusted iron door behind her friend. “ That this is where the war criminals Kylo Ren and General Hux spent their final days after the First Order fell.”

“That’s what my family said.” The other girl replied in a hushed tone, swinging her flashlight from side to side in the old ruin.

“That’s bantha shit Hasina,” the blonde girl replied in a equally hushed tone. “Why in Chao’s name would they have settled on a core world when they were the most wanted men in the galaxy?”

Hasina shrugged in reply.

“That’s just what my family said. My family has been here almost since the destruction of the Hosnian system. The planet was mostly uninhabited then.” She gently grasped the crumbling knob of a closet and turned the handle. There was a grinding of rusted metal and then a click. It swung outwards.

“I don’t believe a bit of it,” the blonde replied, waving her hand in front of her face to chase away the dust motes that opening the closet had unleashed. Hasina swung around and shined the flashlight in her face.

“Then way did you come Ilian?” she asked, matter of factly. Ilian shaded her eyes from the light and thought for a moment.

“I didn’t want you to fall down and break something in this old ruin and die alone.” Ilian answered. Hasina knew she was lying.

“Okay,” she responded, turning back to the closet to begin sifting through it.

“That’s the truth.” Ilian insisted.

“I believe you,” Hasina answered, running a hand over the moth eaten jackets hanging in front of her. Few of them were in any shape to tell what gender was meant to wear them, let alone if they belonged to ancient war criminals. Hasina stepped back and closed the door. She turned and pushed further into the house, Ilian following silently.

Swinging her flashlight, Hasina caught a glint of glass. Somehow not as dusty as the rest of the furniture around them. She reached forward and picked it up. It was a photo.

“What does your family say they did here?” Ilian asked, standing on her toes to look over Hasina’s shoulder as she wiped off the little dust from the glass of the frame.

“Assumed fake names, kept to themselves.” Hasina answered, studying the ancient flimsy photo. The colors had faded over the generations it had sat here. In the photo were two men in coveralls hugging each other. From the little she could make out, it appeared that one had curly hair and glasses, and the other long hair. They were smiling.

“And no one called the New Republic?” Ilian wondered, stepping back and looking at the various art reproductions on the walls.

“Oh, no,” Hasina said, placing the frame back on the table and turning to Ilian. “The Republic was called, they investigated, and determined that it wasn’t them.”

Ilian narrowed her eyes and scowled.

“Then why are we here getting covered in dust and probably spiders?” Ilian hissed.

“Because it was definitely them. Kylo Ren was a powerful Force user and the New Republic didn’t have anyone that could handle that type of interrogation.” Hasina concluded, shining her flashlight around and moving from the hallway into what looked like a sitting room. If not for the dust and the moths eating the fabric, the place would be immaculate. It was rare that houses once abandoned weren’t ransacked, but people avoided this place.

“What about the new Jedi order?”Ilian countered, moving to a side table and examining the various knick-knacks sitting there.

“No one could find them.” Hasina offered, moving to examine a painting. It had no dust on it at all, as if someone had just been here cleaning it. “After the war and the death of Leia Organa, Luke Skywalker took his Jedi into the unknown regions and no one ever heard from them again. Ilian, come here.” She called.

Ilian set the crystal she had been examining back in its cradle and joined Hasina.

“Whoa,” she said. “I thought you said people didn’t come here.” She accused.

“They don’t,” she stammered in response. The hackles on the back of her neck stood up as she continued. “You saw the door, the rust on the hinges. No one had opened it in ages.” Her heart was pounding in her chest now.

“No.” Ilian whispered, voice sounding small.

“This painting,” Hasina said, moving the beam of her flashlight up. She hadn’t recognized it due to the darkness but she knew what it was now. She had just seen the red pillar, but now the bending evergreens and waves of snow. This was an original painting of the Starkiller being fired, from the perspective of the man who had fired it. “Oh gods,” she choked, feeling the tears well in her eyes. There was creaking from somewhere behind them and before they could catch sight of the hunched figure that had stalked up behind them everything went black.

* * *

Hasina came to on a cot in a small holding cell. Everything around her smelled of moss and mold. She was in a cellar. She looked up. She saw Ilian stirring on a table outside of the cage she was in. Ilian began to struggle, she was strapped down.

“Hasina?!” she cried, struggling harder. “Hasina!?”

“I’m right here,” Hasina croaked out, still groggy.

“Where are we?” Ilian wept.

“You’re in the cellar of the house you foolishly chose to break into, child.” A clipped core accent came from somewhere in the dark corners. Slowly a wheelchair rolled into the light. It was a hunched over old man in a black robe. As he pulled back the hood Hasina could see that his eyes were milky white from age and his hair was white as snow. But with the high cheekbones and the painting in the sitting room, immaculately kept . . .

“Starkiller.” She gasped. The man laughed.

“Clever girl. But not so clever as to not come wandering into an old house and disturbing the old bones that reside here.”He said, rolling over to Ilian’s side.

“And how nice of you to come in a pair. And so young. Perfect for our needs.”

“Our?” Hasina hissed, anger overtaking her fear. “So you’re using the royal ‘we’ like you actually conquered the galaxy?”

The Starkiller clicked his tongue.

“So brash. No girl, my Knight is here too.”

There was a shifting again from the dark. With a low grinding sound of metal being dragged across stone a hulking mass shuffled into the light. The man was hunched with age just as the Starkiller but was still muscular. He dropped the bag of tools next to the table. Leaning over Ilian. Ilian began to scream but the hand of the figure curled by his side and she began to choke.

“No too much darling,” the Starkiller cooed to the Knight. “They need to be alive for the transfer.” The figure’s hand relaxed and Ilian began to cough, gasping in breath after breath. The Knight looked at the man in the wheelchair and leaned in to kiss him.

The Knight moved away and began pulling tubes and needles from the bag he’d dragged in, slowly attaching them to Ilain’s crying form. Here and there she shrieked but would receive a slap every time. Hasina was sobbing hard enough she thought she might be sick, but she couldn’t stop. This was her fault.

“It’s time,” came a deep voice that she hadn’t heard before. It reminded her of the sound of a stone door being rolled open.

The Knight moved away from the table where Ilian was shaking, throat sore enough that she could make no sound as she sobbed. He hefted the old Starkiller into his arms and then set him gently down in a pod that was connected to the tubing hanging out of her friend. With a kiss the Knight sealed the pod’s chamber and moved to the control system the was on the opposite side of the room.

Hasina was hypnotized while she watched the man flip switches and adjust dials. There was a humming coming from the room around them. And then Ilian began to scream. Hasina’s eyes snapped to her friend. On the table she was writhing and screaming as Hasina had never heard her scream. It was pure agony beyond anything she’d ever known. Slowly, as the humming grew louder Iliana seemed to shrink. It was like watching a fruit dry in the sun in time lapse. One moment she was springy and young, in the next she looked like a husk.

The humming died down and eventually stopped. The Knight moved from the machine and to the pod, unlocking the chamber and offering a hand to the man inside. A pale hand gripped the Knight’s gloved one and in a roll of steam out stepped the Starkiller, just as he had looked the day he had destroyed the Hosnian system. Hair blazing red, eyes clear and green. He took a deep breath and shivered. Momentarily he was wrapped in a black silk robe.

“Now for you my love,” he whispered into his Knight’s shoulder. The figure nodded, turning to Hasina.

The last thing she’d think of as the agony over took her was the burning yellow of the Knight’s eyes.


End file.
